CHAPTER EIGHT
Sam
Today, I have plans.
This is foreign on several levels because it has been years since I’ve had social plans that didn’t involve my ex. He controlled our calendar, among other things, while we were married, and since then, I worked. And worked. And worked a little more, trying to dig out of the hole he’d left me in.
The reality I’ve grappled with in the year since we divorced is that he controlled pretty much everything. The divorce wasn’t messy, once he finally signed, because I didn’t put up a fight. I had no fight left.
And nothing to fight for.
Oh, and he hurt me. I had police reports from it, and he had no hope of saying any of it was my fault.
A painful twinge hits right between my ribs when I think of how I trotted right into his trap. And it was a trap.Or maybe I was just so lonely and desperate to be loved and chosen, I would’ve been happy with anything.
I didn’t have options then, nor did it feel like I had them in the wake of our divorce, thanks to the debt from lawyers and moving into an apartment without warning and so much more, but I do now.
I worked to give myself options, and now I’m here. Exploring them. Finding out who I am and learning to trust myself again.
My one thread of social connection here is through my old work, Maid For Hire, and she’s the reason I ended up in Juniper View. After my divorce, my coworker mentioned a friend who fled a situation far worse than mine in the past year and, long story short, ended up here. She’s made a life in JV, and apparently loves it. And when I tapped out a message to her mentioning our mutual friend from LA had sent me her way, she seemed to know who I was.
She insisted we meet for breakfast at the diner in town. I haven’t tried it yet, and it’s one of the places on my list, so I jumped at the chance. Plus, I can always get drip coffee and an oatmeal to keep it cheap.
By the time I left the house this morning, the sheriff’s car was gone. The relief I felt after he told me he’d checked things out didn’t hit like I’d hoped because I still feel on edge concerning him. I’m not sure I would’ve taken this place had I known he’d be the landlord, though with two small daughters, hopefully, he’s not as grumpy and stern as he seems.
Hopefully, he’s not hiding the worst parts of him. May said he’s a control freak which is abundantly clear already, but I sense it’s nothing like what I’ve experienced in the past. His version is more centered on keeping the people heloves safe, which is vastly different. It’s the only reason I’m staying.
I am grateful, though. And I can be a good tenant. I can stay out of his way, and we can live peacefully.
At some point, I’m sure his brilliant blue eyes will fade from my mind. The cut of his jaw and the sheer size of him, too. He’ll become just another fellow resident of Juniper View.
I enter Jerry’s Diner, which sits a block away from the center of town, and a woman hops up to greet me, smiling as she extends her hands out to me.
“Welcome to Juniper View.”
She’s beaming. And beautiful. Long blonde hair, broad smile, stunning light blue eyes and delicate features to match her petite frame. And so friendly and warm, I feel those wretched tears threaten and have to clear my throat before I respond.
“Thank you. You must be Evie.”
“And you’re Sam.”
We smile at each other, kindred and strangers at once.
“Come sit. Let’s get food and get into it.”
We slide into a rose pink booth, and that’s when I realize I haven’t looked around. I settle onto the bouncy vinyl and smile at the adorable interior. The floor is navy and white checkers instead of the traditional black and white, and the booths and accents are made of all shining silver and pink vinyl. There are six built-in stools at the counter on the far side and a line of three four-person booths along the opposite wall nearest the windows. I guess for larger parties, they must use the two freestanding four tops at the far end.
All in all, it’s a tiny thing, especially compared to any diner in New York or LA, but it’s completely adorable.
“Isn’t it cute? I love this place, and Jerry is awesome. The food’s great, too.” She shuts her large plastic menu. “I’m definitely buying, so please get whatever you want.”
“What? No. You can’t do that. We just met.”
The look she gives me is something I feel down to my toes. It’s compassion and understanding, and a touch chiding.
“Listen, I know what it’s like to be where you are—from the little Missy told me, I get it. When I came here, I was pregnant. I literally had my baby after being kidnapped by my ex and Grant Ryan delivered me on the side of the road, bless the man.”
My mouth drops open because giving birth on the roadside sounds like a nightmare, but hearing her speak about Sheriff Ryan so warmly clashes directly with my experience of him.
